A few Fall leaves would crunch underfoot in our backyard on Nebraska Street. Nothing special. The trees were too young.

But at my grandmother Moew’s house, near OU, it was a very different story. She was surrounded by old Oak trees. And the leaves in her backyard would have made Calvin and Hobbs think they had died and gone to heaven.

Even using Moew’s million-year-old rake, it wouldn’t even take 10 minutes to rake up a thigh-high pile.

After you’d raked and raked raked, and gotten all sweaty and crunchy under your football jersey, it was serious leapin’ time — but you had to be quick, else the Oklahoma wind would undo your handiwork.

Swan Dive

You’d push your butt way deep into the cyclone fence, and then “shoot” yourself toward the leaf pile at about a million miles per hour.

Then you would leap. Soooo high. And just hang there, forever. Way before Michael Jordan ever thought about doing it for a living.

And then? A perfect swan dive, or even a full flip, dead center into the massive leaf pile, which would then explode with a “PSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHH”, followed by maniacal, childish laughter.

Repeat a million times. Maybe two million.

Then Meow would call you in for a grilled cheese sandwich that she’d made just right, with half a stick of butter in her huge cast iron skillet.

Throw in dill pickles, a mountain of Lay’s potato chips and a couple of AAA root beers, and man, you were livin’.

Even so, Meow’s leaves were strictly minor league.

Big League Leaves

The Big League of Fall Leaves was in Arkansas, witness the photo above.

In my 20s and 30s, when I was single and then after I got married, we’d leave Texas behind every Fall and head north.

We’d gather Mom and a sister or two, then head to Arkansas once we’d heard through the grapevine that the “leaves had turned”.

I guess it was a three-or four-hour drive from Norman, but it was so worth it.

When you got there, you could drive for miles and miles and miles and just marvel at the leaves. Seriously.

A million shades of red and yellow and orange and brown — sometimes pastels, sometimes shockingly electric — as if the leaves were God’s palette for painting Fall.

We’d drive for hours, much of the time in silence, until an awestruck sister would say, “Oh, Mother, look at that!” And you would just be stunned by the artistic wonder of Nature.

Even though you’d be driving really slowly, trying to take it all in, nobody would honk to make you speed up.

They were also enjoying the leaves.

It was sort of like at Christmas, when people drive around looking at Christmas lights.

J-P. Being back in the Will is a good thing, since you almost certainly don’t have much time left, thanks to your beer and heartworm habit… Kidding. May you live long and prosper. Like all Type A+++ personalities. UBP